


A Promise of Forevermore

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Like The Fluffiest I'll Ever Write, POV Draco Malfoy, Twenty Years Later, vow renewals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: After fifteen years of marriage, Draco decides to flaunt it in everyone's faces by renewing his vows to Hermione like the sap he secretly is.  Besides, he won't say no to seeing her in a white dress all over again.





	A Promise of Forevermore

Draco casually flipped through the Sunday morning edition of the _Daily Prophet,_ scanning the pages for something of interest. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly newsworthy this weekend, although it appeared as if a group of wizards may have stumbled upon an illegal hybrid breed of dragons while hiking in the far edges of the Galloway Forest. He made a mental note to tell his wife, who would undoubtedly have something to say on the subject. The topic of dragons had always gotten her heated, even if it had been nearly a decade since she had worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

But he wasn’t going to interrupt her now. Hermione sat across from him at the dining table, alternating between taking bites from her breakfast and taking notes on an article from the latest edition of _Transfiguration Today_. Even though they’d been out of Hogwarts for over half their lives, she still acted as if there was going to be a test on everything that she read.

It was those sorts of little things that still made him smile even after fifteen years of marriage. The slight gape of her mouth in excitement each time she read a new fact that piqued her interest. The eager leap of her arm as she picked up the quill and scribbled down the tidbit of information so that she wouldn't forget it. The inevitable monologue that would commence whenever she finished the article and recited each new piece of information as if it was the most important thing she had ever read. And of course, he’d nod along, probably only retaining half of what she said, but savouring every last second of her enthusiasm.

He set down the paper and just looked at her, admiring the way she gnawed at her bottom lip, the clear indicator that she was deep in thought. He’d seen that expression so many times while chancing glances in her direction while they were at Hogwarts. Even from the other side of the Great Hall, her focus had always been visible -- the only student in a sea of audacious Gryffindors who seemed to take her studies seriously. It drove him wild then, and it held true to this very day.

Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn’t still that sixteen-year-old boy who was hopelessly trapped between an impossible situation and the treacherous longing of his heart. Somehow, it had all managed to work out for him. Granted, it had taken several years of carefully laid out plans on how to best convince her to consider him an appropriate suitor, but the Malfoy men had always been in it for the long haul, and after ample persistence (and perhaps a bit of grovelling), she caved.

She set down her quill and closed the journal, taking a moment to review her notes. Draco peered at his watch with an amused look. It had only taken her thirty-seven minutes to read today’s selection. Must have been a short article. He leaned back in his chair, already anticipating what would start in about five seconds. Four… three… two… one...

“Can you believe there’s a man in South Wales who claims he can morph into two different animals at will? That simply cannot be!”

Ah, yes. Here came his favourite part of their morning routine.

She scanned through her notes once more and shook her head in frustration. “He went to the Ministry so that he could become registered after the fact, which first of all, he should have done _beforehand_ because the process can be so dangerous and requires close monitoring, but besides that piece of obvious negligence, he expects the Ministry to believe that he’s the first wizard to be able to become _two_ animals? The report says that he did indeed change into both a hare and a sheep, but I don’t buy it. He must have done something else. Of course, Polyjuice wouldn’t be an option because…”

Draco let Hermione continue with her mini-lecture, the witch all too consumed with her theories to even notice that he was only half paying attention. He was too busy watching her. Each time she made a new point, her eyes would light up and she’d reference some evidence on the parchment that supported it. Her hands then flailed up into the air -- apparently, this was a topic she was particularly passionate about -- and Draco couldn’t help but notice the way the Malfoy family diamond sparkled off her ring finger as the early morning sun hit it at the proper angle.

And just like that, an idea flashed into his mind.

“Let’s get married.”

Hermione stopped and just looked at Draco. Whatever thought she had been in the middle of now seemed a distant memory. “You do know we’re already married, right?” she asked, a clear look of confusion etched across her features.

Of course he knew that. He’d never forget it.

He pushed back his chair and met Hermione on the other side of the table. He leaned down, draping his arms over her shoulders. His fingers pushed aside a portion of her hair, and he left a single kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“Let’s get married _again_ ,” he clarified, leaving kisses lower down along her jaw. “Renew our vows. It’s been fifteen years. Seems only proper to rub it in all of their faces how in love we still are.”

He pulled away as he waited for her response and was pleased to see that she was now beaming up at him.

“Fine, you lovesick fool,” she agreed with the vibrant smile that never failed to make Draco’s heart soar. “Although, I do remember your proposal being a lot more romantic the first time around.”

Without skipping a beat, Draco took her left hand into has and slipped the two bands off her finger. He kneeled and placed the two rings together, presenting them out to her.

“Hermione Malfoy,” he began, a massive smile failing to fade from his lips, “will you do me the honour of causing my ancestors to roll over in their graves by vowing to be my wife forevermore?”

Hermione snatched the rings out of his grasp and returned them to her finger. “I don’t even want to go one second without those there as a constant reminder that I am and always will be forever yours.” She leaned in and kissed him. “I only have one condition. We have to wait until the end of the school year. I want our children to be present this time.”

 

The flowers that lined the gardens of Malfoy Manor were still in bloom when late June rolled around. The children had only been home for a few days, but now that they had returned for the summer holiday, Hermione and Draco didn’t want to wait any longer than was necessary. For the past several weeks, Hermione had been planning extensively with his mother, rushing to organise the details of the catering, guest list, and other necessary logistics, but at the end of the day, none of that mattered to Draco. All he cared about was the speech that laid in his dress robes pocket -- the words he wanted to reaffirm to his wife. 

He stood on the balcony which overlooked where the ceremony would be taking place and couldn’t resist the slight chuckle that escaped his lips. They had kept the guest list as small as possible, and even though that still amounted to upwards fifty people, it seemed as if a quarter of the crowd were redheads. He had long since resigned himself to the fact that being with Hermione meant a wealth of Weasleys in tow, and if he being was honest, he supposed they weren’t all terrible.

There was a knock on the door and his son Caelum entered the room, tugging uncomfortably at the high collar of his robes.

“Do I really have to wear these?” he groaned, pulling the fabric away from his chest to let air in. “I know these are what Mum picked out, but there has to be something else for me to wear. That is unless you prefer that I pass out halfway through the ceremony from heat exhaustion.”

Draco let out a laugh, recognising the unadulterated discomfort in his son’s face. It wasn’t that long ago that he himself used to complain about having to wear dress robes. The poor kid had only just finished his first year at Hogwarts, so he hadn’t had too many events that required such attire. He’d grow accustomed to it eventually.

Draco closed the glass doors to the balcony and sat down on the couch, patting the space next to him for Caelum to sit.

“Let me tell you something,” Draco said, resting a fatherly hand on his son’s shoulder. “If you’re lucky, you’ll meet someone who makes you half as happy as your mother makes me. And if that day happens, you better listen to whatever they want. In this case, what your mother wants is for you to wear those robes, so you’re just going to have to suck it up.”

Caelum knocked his head back and released a deep groan, evidently having held out hope that his father would do something about the wardrobe selection. He had to know it was a long shot. The kid had a better chance of Draco letting him borrow his broomstick!

There was another knock on the door and a young blonde peeked her head inside, covering her eyes so she couldn’t see.

“Is everyone decent?” his elder child asked.

“You may come in, Calliope.”

Caelum let out another groan when he caught sight of his sister. “How come she doesn’t have to wear robes?” he grumbled. “A dress looks infinitely more comfortable than _this_.”

Calliope had a mischievous grin that Draco recognised all too well. “You know, if you prefer, I think some last minute arrangements can be made,” she taunted, lifting the fabric that draped over his legs. “Give me five minutes and I’m fairly certain I can fashion your own dress to wear.”

Caelum’s face quickly turned sour. “On second thought, I’m good as is.”

“That’s what I thought.” Calliope then turned to her father and straightened out the edges of his dress robes. “We should be ready to start soon. Mum’s nearly done.”

“How does she look?”

Calliope fixed some of the wisps of his hair and grinned. “I won’t spoil any of the details, but let’s just say that you’re a very lucky man.” She pretended to zip her lips together to prevent anything else from slipping out, but Calliope hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know. “Although I do need one more thing before we can begin.”

She held out a hand, and Draco knew precisely what she was waiting for. He had to twist the platinum band a few times, but it came off easily enough despite hardly leaving his finger in over a decade. He held it in his grasp, about to give the ring to Calliope, when he pulled it back.

“You lose this, and you’re disowned,” he warned, giving her a firm glare for good measure.

Calliope snorted, completely unfazed by her father’s threat. “Sure. Whatever you say, Dad. But I highly doubt I’ll be burned off the family tree any time soon if you’ve managed to last this long.”

She flashed her father a teasing smile and wiggled her hand out, still waiting for the ring.

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped the ring into her hand and after a quick thank you, she grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him downstairs, running to deliver the final piece before the ceremony could begin.

 

Draco had to keep one hand perched over his eyes to prevent the glare of the sun from blinding him. They were set to begin any moment now, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose any portion of his eyesight before getting to see Hermione walk down the aisle for the second time. 

The string quartet (his mother’s idea) started to play, and the people before him all arose from their seats. The doors leading out to the garden opened, and Draco had to hold onto Caelum beside him to prevent himself from tipping over the moment his eyes landed on her.

For their first ceremony, Hermione had insisted on a simple white dress, nothing too frilly, all classic, clean-cut lines. She maintained that it didn’t matter what she wore, and Draco didn’t have any objections -- he would have thought that Hermione was a vision regardless of what dress she chose. But one look at her in the current dress and he was transported back to the Great Hall in fourth year when she had rendered him speechless. Back then, he had dismissed it as hormones and a blatant lack of judgment, but in hindsight, he now considered it the first time he started to fall.

Her hair was fashioned in a similar elegant twist so that her demure blush wasn’t masked behind her usual mass of curls. Draco couldn’t help but shake his head back and forth in utter disbelief, not stopping even when she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Calliope was right -- he most certainly was a lucky, lucky man.

But the real kicker was the way that she looked in that dress. She definitely hadn’t sided on simple this time around. The whole thing was covered in lace with small crystals sewn into the intricate bodice. A thin waistband cinched around her waist and allowed the rest of the fabric to flutter to the ground, making it appear as if she was floating towards him.

She was more than a vision. She was a goddess. An angel. _His everything_.

Calliope leaned over and pulled him out of his trance. “Told you,” she said with a knowing smile. “Mum thought it was a bit much, but I convinced her otherwise.”

Draco didn’t let his eyes stray from the sight of his wife, unable to tear himself away for even a fraction of a second. He would have to come up with a way to thank Calliope later. A broomstick, an owl, her own wing in the Manor -- whatever she wanted.

Hermione neared the front of their friends and family, and he outstretched his hand for her as she took the final steps towards him. His mouth was still hanging agape, not over just how exceptionally beautiful she was today.

“You’re staring,” she said, sporting a massive grin.

“I don’t deny it,” he responded with a smirk. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most gorgeous witch in the entire world?”

Calliope let out a fake gag. “No need to flirt, Dad. She already agreed to marry you again, so if you’re done, there’s an actual ceremony for us to do.”

“Forget the ceremony. I’m taking your mother upstairs right this moment, and --”

“FRIENDS AND FAMILY!” Calliope shouted at the top of her lungs, not letting her father complete that thought.

The guests returned to their seats, and Hermione gave Draco a shove as their daughter continued.

“We gather here today because, for some reason, my parents wanted to embarrass me and my brother in front of everyone we know by acting like a pair of sappy sixth years who have just figured out what love is. But I suppose when you have as good of parents as I do, you put up with some of their quirks and indulge them.”

The crowd laughed, and Calliope relished in their enjoyment.

“But enough with what I have to say. Apparently, these two have prepared things that they want to say to each other, so we might as well get it over with.”

Calliope took a step back as Draco reached into the inner pocket of his robes and retrieved the notes that he had prepared.

He cleared his throat to address the audience. “You’ll have to forgive me in advance. I can already assure you that my wife will be more eloquent than me, but I’ll still give it a go.”

He looked over the speech that he had spent the past few weeks preparing, toiling for countless hours to ensure that his vows would be perfect, yet as he skimmed them now, they no longer felt adequate.

Draco returned the parchment into his pocket and took Hermione’s hands into his. Her hands had always been soft and delicate, but they seemed even more so without her rings adorning her left hand. Draco grazed his thumb over the spot where they typically rested, watching the steady motion as he spoke from his heart.

“When I was younger, I was a bit of a… how do I phrase this nicely… pompous prick?”

The crowd gave a soft chuckle, as did Hermione.

“By the time I entered Hogwarts, I thought I had the whole world figured out. But then I met this girl who was probably the most stubborn, bossy person I had ever met, and she forced me to reconsider everything.”

He gripped Hermione’s hand tighter and forgot about everyone else listening. All that mattered was the woman in front of him.

“For years, you pushed me to the verge of insanity with the way you would flaunt your intelligence in class, not only proving that I wasn’t the smartest person in the room, but also challenging every misconception I had about Muggle-borns. It only took me six years to come to terms with how I actually felt about you, and around three more for you to do the same.

“At times I wonder how things would be different if our history wasn’t so… tumultuous… but when you sit across from me at the breakfast table, there isn’t a single thing I would change. You’re the person I want to complain to about work, the person I want to debate the latest _Prophet_ article with, the person I want to hold when I’m feeling down, the person I want to raise our family with, the person I want to spend every single waking moment with for the rest of my bloody life.”

Caelum slapped him on the arm. “Language, Dad!”

Draco ignored his son. He was nearly done anyway.

“I love you,” he continued, his cheeks starting to hurt from the idiotic way he couldn’t stop smiling, “and I would happily marry you again today, tomorrow, and fifty years from now.”

A couple of people in the audience awed, but his focus remained solely on Hermione whose eyes had glossed over. She tried to blink to prevent herself from crying, but a single tear managed to break free. Her fingertips quickly patted at the moisture, careful not to disturb the small amount of makeup she had applied for the occasion.

“That was sweet,” she said, wiping under her eyes to make sure that no mascara had run. “Although I have to warn you that my vows are a bit more succinct than that.”

“Put it in the history books. You were able to be concise for once.”

Hermione shoved him for the second time since the start of the ceremony and turned to Calliope. “Is it too late to call this whole thing off?”

Her daughter raised her hands as if to remove herself from the situation. “You two make the rules here. This was your idea, not mine!”

“Well, then I object,” Hermione taunted.

“Can’t. I don’t accept.”

“Seeing as which I haven’t said my half of the vows yet, I believe I don’t need your permission.”

“Technically speaking, you’ll still be married to me regardless of what does or does not happen here today.”

“Yes, but --”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin,” Calliope interrupted, sparing the crowd from what they all knew was harmless banter. “Will you just get on with it, Mum!” She yanked out a rolled up scrap of parchment from her dress pocket and practically crammed it into her mother’s hands to read.

Hermione dropped any pretences of disapproval as she unrolled the scroll and began to read.

“Draco,” she started, “as if you didn’t just prove my point exactly” she paused to give him a quick glare, “you are, by far, the biggest pain in the arse I have ever met.”

The crowd laughed, Draco included.

“And yet, for some reason, that only makes me love you more.” She shook her head and smiled. “I know I said this fifteen years ago, but adolescent me would never have believed it if someone told me that I’d be voluntarily agreeing to spend the rest of my life with you. In fact, I probably would have scoffed in their face and hexed them for good measure.”

Draco laughed again, but this time, he couldn’t resist commenting. “Actually, I believe that’s exactly how you reacted when I asked you out the first time.”

Hermione dropped her jaw in fake offence and turned to the crowd. “See what I mean by pain in the arse!” She faced him and poked him in the chest. “You got your chance to speak, Mister, and now it’s my turn!” She rolled her eyes at him and returned to her parchment. “Now where was I?” She sighed in feigned agitation, but she failed to mask the grin peeking from the corner of her lips. “Getting here certainly wasn’t easy, but we’re stronger because of it. When I looked into my future fifteen years ago, you were it. When I look into my future now, you’re still it. I love you, and I know that will never change.”

Draco waited for more, but when Hermione didn’t say anything for a few seconds, he scrunched his eyebrows.

“That’s it?”

“I told you it was short.”

“I bared my soul, and you wrote five measly sentences?”

“It was seven!”

“You counted!?”

Draco snatched the parchment out of her hand and dragged his finger over her precise handwriting. She hadn’t been joking. There were precisely seven periods on the page.

“Weeks of preparation and all you could manage was seven sentences?”

“It was on purpose, you arse!” she sharply defended. “According to Bridget Wenlock, the number seven has certain magical properties, so I figured if I wrote precisely seven sentences, then it would mean --”

Draco didn’t wait for her to finish her explanation, knowing all too well that if he let her continue, it’d turn into a ten-minute lecture. He pressed his hands against her cheeks, leaving her speech discarded somewhere on the ground beside them as he pulled her in for a kiss.

“Hey!” Calliope interrupted, dragging them apart from each other. “I didn’t even get to say, ‘You may now kiss your wife!’”

“Forget the rest of the ceremony,” he shouted out to the crowd. “I love this woman, and don’t any of you ever think otherwise!”

 

After a several hours too long luncheon reception, Draco practically shoved his mother out the door to the front lawn, where Calliope and Caelum were already standing outside with their overnight bags. Needless to say, Narcissa was not pleased. 

“Honestly, dear,” she snapped at her son. “It’s not proper to usher out your guests in such a haste. And you haven’t even thanked me for —“

“Yes, yes, yes,” Draco droned, far beyond the point of impatience. “Thank you for helping plan the ceremony, thank you for not murdering my wife when I first told you about her seventeen years ago, thank you for giving birth to me, _GET OUT_.”

He gave his mother a final push and slammed the door shut behind her, grateful to finally have the privacy he'd been craving all afternoon. He fixed the strands of his hair that had become displaced and turned to face Hermione who was standing in the foyer, withholding a laugh.

“You know, your mother is going to have your head when she sees you next.”

Draco took two paces towards his wife and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll deal with the consequences when I have to.”

Without waiting a single second more, Draco pressed his lips against hers, savouring the lingering warmth from afternoon tea. His heart beated unwarrantedly fast, for even though this was far from his first time kissing her, he couldn’t help but relish in the pseudo-newlywed excitement. Everything about the day had made him feel like he was back in his early twenties, falling in love with her all over again.

And now they had the Manor all to themselves.

He pulled back from the kiss and with an impish grin and took her by the hand, leading her up three flights of stairs. Hermione required more time than usual, having to stop every few steps to adjust the fabric accumulating around her ankles. He tried to be patient, but he was done waiting. With a quick swoop, he bent down and lifted Hermione up from under her knees, prompting a short shriek of surprise as she clamped her arms around his neck for safety.

“Draco!” she cried as he carried her up the rest of the steps. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? You’re not twenty-three anymore! You’re too old for this!”

Draco pretended to drop her a quarter of an inch, eliciting another squeal. “Say that again and I will drop you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“You want to try me?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she pressed her lips together, apparently all out of protests.

The hallway leading to their bedroom felt significantly longer than usual, but he held on tight to Hermione, not letting his exhaustion show. Fine. Perhaps he was a bit older than the last time they had done this, but he wasn’t going to let a pesky thing like age get in his way.

After jumbling to open the door while maintaining his hold on his wife, he deposited her safely on top of their bed. The seemingly endless tulle spread out around her, making her appear smaller than usual. His fingers grazed against her cheek and slowly traced their way down her silky smooth skin, falling over the curvature of the bust of her dress.

“I must say,” Draco said in a low, husky voice, “as much as I enjoy this dress --”

“Let me guess,” Hermione interrupted, rolling her eyes at his predictableness. “Something along the lines of, ‘I bet it looks even better off?’”

Draco smirked. “They don’t call you the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ for nothing.”

He crashed his lips down onto hers. Enough with the small talk -- he had already endured enough this afternoon to fill his quota for the next six months.

Hermione settled her hand at the base of his neck and pulled him in closer. Her touch never failed to make him go weak, even after so long together. The rustling of his hair was enough to make any man of sound judgement go mad, but when mixed with the unexpected tugs and the satisfied hums against his lips, it sent all the blood in his body rushing to his groin. She pulled back on his lower lip with a tender bite, sparking his own growl of approval.

He yanked off the waistband, discarding it somewhere on the floor. That faster he got it off, the faster he could have her. His hands trickled up and down the back of her dress, expecting to find a zipper, but apparently, it wasn’t going to be that easy. Up until this moment, he had nothing but praise for the heavenly dress, but now he had stumbled upon a significant flaw. Whoever designed the dress clearly hadn’t thought ahead to what would happen _after_ the ceremony.

He wrestled with the series of tiny buttons, struggling to slip one through a hole without breaking their kiss. Seriously. Who designed such a contraption? All he wanted was to sleep with his wife. Was that really that tall of an order? He managed to get a couple of them free, but there had to be at least fifteen more. Where was the zipper? Why couldn’t it just be a damn zipper!?

He grabbed the next button in the endless line of torture devices, but his fingers were starting to grow tired, and he would be needing those to do much more important things in the not too distant future.

“Screw these bloody buttons!” he grumbled between kisses. “Fuck it. We’re keeping this dress on, and --”

“Draco Malfoy, you get this dress off me right this second and shag me properly!”

Well, he certainly wasn’t anticipating that reaction, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to object. After all, ‘what the bride wants, the bride gets’ still applied in vow renewals, right?

Not bothering with those vexing buttons one moment longer, Draco tore the back of the dress open. He expected some sort of complaint about how he had ruined it or whatnot, but it seemed as if she too had had enough with the waiting. He pulled the mass of fabric up over her head, and the white dress laid discarded on the bed in a lump as if it was last season’s robes.

He had been so relieved to finally be rid of those blasted buttons that he hadn’t noticed the lingerie that had been hiding underneath that fabric prison. But when Hermione propped herself up on top of the bed, his eyes most certainly did not miss it -- and neither did the rest of his body. If he wasn’t hard before, there was no denying he was now. The sheer white lace pushed her breasts together, two tempting treats awaiting his touch. Further down, he was greeted with a similar spectacle of satin lace.

Hermione looked up at him with a devilish smirk on her face -- an expression she had mastered after spending so much time with him over the years. She played with the strap of her bra, slowly teasing it down her shoulder. The sight sent waves of heat pulsing through his body, the need to take her that very instant starting to take over.

“You didn’t think the dress was the only special thing I put on today, did you?” she said with a wicked grin.

Dear Merlin, he sure did love this witch!

He primal instincts kicked in and he pinned her down onto the mattress, capturing her in a bruising kiss. He slid a hand under the cup of the bra and his lips left hers, shifting their attention to the cleavage peeking out from the lingerie. His thumb ran over the peak of her nipple which stiffened at his touch, while his other hand reached down between her legs, pushing away the fabric so that his fingers could dip inside.

Hermione’s let out a silent gasp, her back arching upwards. That look had to one Draco’s favourite things in the world. There was something so satisfying in watching the first moment that signified the start of her becoming undone.

He pulled his fingers out from within her, and she groaned at their absence. He didn’t wander far, though. His fingers remained just beyond the fabric, tracing her slit through the lace. She was already plenty wet, the material clinging to her pink lips, but he didn’t indulge her any further. His cock longed to be inside that warm wetness, but he held off for a few minutes longer. As much as it was driving him mad, he knew it affected her even more.

Right on schedule, the irritated look on Hermione’s face returned. “ _Draco_ ,” she whined, but it promptly stopped when he shoved two fingers back inside.

“Is _that_ what you wanted?”

Her muscles contracted around him, and his brain immediately went wild in anticipation of how it would feel when he was properly inside her. But she wasn’t _quite_ close enough yet.

He slowly moved his fingers to the apex of her folds, using the evidence of her arousal to facilitate his motions. Her hips rocked forward, and his cock jerked once again at the thought of her enveloping him in that heat. The buildup was near killing him, but he was a grown man who would not tend to his own needs until he ensured that his wife was plenty satisfied.

She reached up and grabbed ahold of his robes, slipping her tongue between his lips as he continued to press against her sweet spot. Her nimble fingers tinkered with his buttons, finding much more success in their mission to undress him. With just a few motions, Hermione had managed to yank his robes off, leaving him in just his pants. His length was clearly visible, only becoming more apparent as she palmed him through the fabric.

He was done waiting.

He discarded their undergarments, leaving nothing left to block him. He took his cock into his hand, and after giving it a few firm strokes, he positioned himself above her. The moment his tip grazed her entrance, he had to force himself not to slam his whole length in with a single motion. As expected, she was warm and tight around him. He held a breath as he slowly slid deeper inside, watching as his prick disappeared inch by torturous inch.

Hermione grasped onto the roots of his hair, urging him closer as he entered her completely. It didn’t take long before she started to rock her hips.

He watched as his cock slipped in and out of her, admiring the way it glistened with the visible traces of her arousal. The sensation was intoxicating. It didn’t matter how many times they had had sex; every time felt just as good. He returned his attention to her clit and her muscles tightened around his cock, sending a shot of heat through his body. He was getting close, but he couldn’t finish just yet.

He temporarily removed himself from her, already missing her warmth. He stood in front of the bed, bringing Hermione with him, but she didn’t remain standing for long. Draco soon had her pressed face first into the sheets, her bum lifted in the air in the most tempting position. He pushed into her from the new angle, eliciting a delicious gasp from her lips. He thrust into her, gripping onto her hips so hard, he was certain there would be marks in the morning. Her muscles began to clench around him in a tantalising fashion, and within moments, Hermione let out a mewling cry as she reached her climax. 

Draco pulled out from her and flipped her back over onto the bed. He gripped onto his cock and began to stroke it fervently, feeling his own muscles start to tighten. He closed his eyes as the pleasure came, leaving traces of his release all over her stomach.

Draco crashed on the mattress beside her, feeling the trickles of sweat at the edges of his hair. He leaned over and gave Hermione one final kiss.

“Perhaps not as wild as the first time we got married, but I think we’ve still got it.”

Hermione laughed, but still smacked him on the chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe so, but you still love me.”

“Yes, I do.”

Draco turned on his stomach so he could see her better. Fifteen years may have passed since their first ‘I do,’ but this ‘I do’ still sounded just as sweet.

“So what do you say? Shall we go for another fifteen years?”

Hermione smiled. “You’ve got me for the next one hundred fifty years and more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please take a moment to let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


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